


Minsk

by sarcasticconfusion



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticconfusion/pseuds/sarcasticconfusion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin wakes up to a strange noise. (Wow, I'm crap at summaries. Rated for suggested child abuse and M/M.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Minsk

**Author's Note:**

> All Characters belong to John Finnemore. Who, unfortunately, I don't own.

Martin woke up, strangely, in the middle of the night. At first, he was slightly confused at where he was, before remembering he was in a cramped hotel room in Minsk. It took the ginger pilot a few minutes to determine what had woken him up, when he heard a slight whimpering sound coming from the foot of the bed. He sat up slowly and crawled towards the sound. At the end of the bed, on the floor, in a rental sleeping bag, was Arthur.

Martin stared for a moment before remembering; Carolyn had only paid for three rooms, meaning they had had to share. He sat still for a moment, confused about the sounds that were coming from Arthur's mouth; whimpers and gasps. It wasn't a particularly cold night. And the sleeping bag was rather thick, so he couldn't be uncomfortable, could he?

He slid off the bed and sat on the floor next to Arthur, wondering if he should wake him. Before he could, however, Arthur cried out in apparent pain; arms lashing out to grab something. They found Martin's hand and he suddenly found himself being dragged towards the steward's quivering chest.

Now lying on the floor; arm in a death grip against Arthur, he decided it was probably a good idea to wake him. He turned slightly on the floor and found himself face to face with him. Martin shook his arm, and called out his name softly.

"Arthur? Arthur, wake up. Come on, Arthur." He shook his arm again, "Arthur!"

The steward suddenly jerked awake, letting go of Martin's arm, with a look of wide-eyed terror. He struggled into a sitting position, pushing himself backwards against the bed frame; "Please don't!" He yelled, arms flinging upwards to cover his face as tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes. He crawled into a slight fetal position, whimpering, "Please. Please don't. Leave me alone. Don't."

Martin sat for a second, unsure of what to do. He reached forward slowly, "Arthur?" He whispered, "Are you okay?"

Arthur flinched as Martin touched his arm, and he looked up slowly through the gap between his arms. "S-skip?" He whispered, sniffing.

Martin nodded slowly, "Are you okay?"

Suddenly, Martin found himself with an arm-full of crying steward. He moved into a more comfortable position; as comfortable as he could get with Arthur draped across him.

For almost half an hour they stayed at the foot of the bed; Martin shushing and rocking Arthur, who was lying haphazardly, one leg still in the sleeping bag, across Martin's chest.

Slowly, carefully, Arthur sat up; wiping his eyes and sniffling. He leant against the end of the bed, head back and eyes closed.

"'m s-sorry, skip." He said as Martin moved next to him.

Martin shook his head, "It's fine, Arthur. Are you okay now?"

Arthur shrugged a bit, "Think so."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before Martin spoke up, "Arthur?" he asked, "What... What was that?"

Arthur didn't say anything for a few seconds. "Mum calls them 'night terrors', I think." He said, "They're, um," He breathed in shakily, "F-flash backs."

Martin frowned, watching Arthur carefully. "Flash backs to what?" He asked, tentatively.

Arthur shook his head, making the pilot think he wasn't going to answer, but he seemed to be thinking about what to say. "To when I was a kid. D-dad, he, um. He used to get drunk and he'd," He swallowed heavily, "H-he'd get angry. And..." He shook his head again as a few more tears escaped, "The bruises hurt. A lot."

Martin's hand found Arthur's, and squeezed reassuringly. "Oh, Arthur. I'm so sorry."

Arthur opened his eyes and lifted his head up. Looking at Martin, he smiled softly, lacing his fingers through Martin's and squeezing lightly. "It's not your fault, Skip. It d-doesn't really get to me a lot of the time. O-only, when I'm sleeping. Sometimes."

Martin smiled back, "Are you feeling better now?"

Arthur nodded his head a few times, "Yeah. Thanks, Skip. I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"It doesn't matter."

They sat for a few more minutes in comfortable silence. Neither commented on the fact that their fingers were still intwined, or the fact that the Captain's head now rested on Arthur's shoulder.

"Skip?" Arthur said after a while, to a lightly dozing Martin.

"Mmm?"

"I really like you."

Martin smiled softly, "I like you too."

"Really?"

He nodded and yawned, "Definitely."

"Good."

A bit more silence followed.

"Skip?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you."

Martin lifted his head off Arthur's shoulder and looked at the steward for a few moments before smiling. He pressed his lips against Arthur's and smiled against them.

"I love you too."

"Really?"

"Definitely."

"Good."

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was intended to be complete fluff, but then my mind turned it into 90% angst.  
> Thanks mind.


End file.
